Beyond the Forest
by solunvar
Summary: The Deathly Hallows were reported to be given to the Peverell brothers by Death itself. Centuries later, Death wants them back.


Beyond the Forest

_'Harry Potter,' he said, very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. 'The boy who lived.'_

_None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his -_

_Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear-_

_He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone._

_(p.564, The Forest Again, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows)_

He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.

The human mind is a curious and intriguing concept, capable of performing the impossible, adept at associating one fact to another in a most illogical way. Which explained why, on pondering the silence and the knowledge that he technically was dead, his stomach contracted and let out a growl capable of cowering proud lions into frightened kittens.

It was a very lively experience considering what had brought him to the here and now, the long road that started with two wizards and two witches starting a school, and three artifacts of the beyond making their way into the hands of three brothers. Harry didn't think the course of time could have gone differently. The Deathly Hallows, Salazar Slytherin's legacy, Horcruxes, they were all elements of a history of mystery, violence and ambition.

And he was the sacrifice to herald the coming of a new era, a change in the pattern of wizarding history. Before his breaking into Gringotts the goblins hadn't ever been beat in their own games of deceit and betrayal. Sure there had been rebels and the goblins had effectively destroyed any chances of a cooperating, equal magical world centuries before, followed by settling in as the financial organ manipulating wizarding population, but they'd never lost a power struggle on their turf before. Change was bound to happen.

From the moment the Hallows were introduced as legends and children's tales, they affected the minds of the weak and the strong. There wasn't a wizard or witch in existence who wasn't influenced by the Elder Wand in one way or another. There hadn't been a true master for the three of them since the Peverell brothers received them.

Salazar Slytherin's ideology, or at least the ideas associated with the famous man, had perhaps the strongest effects on the way magic interacted with Muggles in modern times. The first public and known figure to go against the Wizard's Council - founded in Merlin's days - and invent the concept of anti-Muggle wards, Slytherin's heritage was one that bespoke of respect and pity. The once great family was reduced to the lowest of the low, with the last descendant probably meeting his end sooner rather than later. Of that Harry was certain.

Horcruxes were, simply put, the worst magic had produced. Not necessarily because it involved murder, a lot of things killed and people died all of the time after all, but because it crossed boundaries no human should cross. Immortality, a long sought-after dream of many, wasn't a condition fit for beings that invented darkness and nightmares.

"Finally," a raspy voice spoke up, surprising him. He didn't know there had been someone / something with him all this time. Were his instincts void in this state of living dead. "Finally," the voice repeated, "a human who understands."

Harry pushed himself off the grass he was lying on. Burned grass, but grass nonetheless. Very odd. With a little bit of effort, he managed a sitting position, his legs stretched out, his arms holding him upright, his bum itchy. He should have known to wear more comfortable robes. He squinted at his surroundings. Why clothes came along for the ride, but glasses didn't, he hadn't a clue.

It took some time and effort for him to identify the voice's owner. He couldn't say he didn't expect the other's appearance.

Standing tall and at a small distance of him was a skeleton, nothing but bones and otherworldly magic holding the whole construction together.

"You are Death?" Harry informed.

"Perceptive lad as well," mused the other, stroking a non-existent goatee. "Most curious indeed. You are lucky your visit to this plane of existence had been foreseen, Harry Potter, otherwise I fear I would have missed the opportunity to observe you myself."

Harry regarded Death carefully. There wasn't much to observe of course, there were only so many ways a skeleton could differ remarkably when you weren't a Muggle scientist. Still, it was confusing to realize a pair of bones assuming stances and tilting its head told him more than what he generally caught of body language from other people. Maybe it was all those months of looking over his shoulder in paranoia, maybe he was finally growing mature and understanding more of his surroundings than he used to... He didn't know for sure. Still, it was peculiar to notice Death was nervous about something. Unexpected to say the least.

"Why do you want to speak to me?" he finally uttered.

"I wish to make a... deal with you," the other stated, "I have amused myself tremendously by allowing my toys to be out there and see the chaos inspired by them. But, as you might guess though, it is rather difficult to perform my duty without the correct tools. It is high time I gathered them back."

"Yet will they recognize you as their master?" murmured Harry. "And even if they did, can you blindly cross life and death without the Resurrection Stone?"

"That is where our deal comes into place," Death explained. "If you are willing, I would temporarily use your body to anchor myself into the land of the living to fetch the only object you have not with you, the Wand. In exchange for the courtesy of granting me usage of your body, I will take your human enemy with me when I leave. He is due for a reincarnation anyhow."

Harry blinked. "The afterlife's reincarnation?"

"Souls as fractured and tainted as Tom Riddle's is," Death shook its head, "they need several lifetimes to heal. A couple of regenerations as an ant should do the trick."

He couldn't help his brows from furrowing. "An ant?"

Death nodded. "They are the most ambitious animals I know of."

He thought about the idea for a while, his mind imagining a worker ant trying to overthrow the queen, or an ant casting the Killing Curse. The picture he came up was quite harmless. He liked it. Still there were some concerns that needed to be addressed before he gave an answer. "You wouldn't happen to have something to eat, would you?"

The empty eyes of Death looked at him. "There is a McDonald's in hell, but that is beyond the in-between. _You_ will never encounter one in the afterlife."

"Damn," he cursed. "Are there any side-effects I'll have to take into account should I consent with your proposal?"

Death moved his hand over his skill, as if going through his hair with it. His head being a skull, it looked kind of odd. "If I use your body to anchor me to the living, no matter how briefly, your body will revert to your skeleton, seeing as there is a reason I have a cloak. I do not know for sure what the longterm effects could be with that. Even without you being the master of my equipment, your connection to the afterlife is strong. Nonetheless, the most I think that would happen is that your body would turn into a skeleton a couple of nights every month, depending on your location and the position of the stars and planets."

"I wouldn't need to buy an outfit for Halloween then?" he said to himself. "Neat."

"You consent?"

There really wasn't much in him that protested against the idea. Sure, it was a bit unusual and absolutely not what he generally preferred, he liked his body under his control thank you very much. The prospect of not having to deal with Voldemort and being able to live out his life, a life with Ginny at his side, was too much for him to ignore however. It wasn't a matter of what was right and what was easy anymore. He was the sacrifice, the one who paid the price. Luckily for him, the wizarding world wasn't in debt and his life didn't end with a Dark Lord.

"I do."

"Then rise, Harry Potter, and come near me," Death breathed in excitement, "let me guide you to your life."

**End.**

**--**

**Author's Note**

_I had a scene similar to this in my mind for a long time now, finally decided on a right moment in canon to place it. It differs from what I had in mind and probably comes closes to one of the most canon-like stuff I've written since I wrote under a different nickname (my first name)._

_For those curious about Walk of Life and Thunderbird Intervention, I haven't a clue when the next chapters will be finished. I find myself opening the documents, writing a phrase, sometimes a paragraph, and moving onto other stuff. It's not really advancing in other words._

_It doesn't help either that I'm in the process of developing story lines and writing the synopsis of eleven different original stories at the same time as well. So it's not that I have writer's block, it's that my attention is shifting from fan fiction to original works when it comes to what I produce. If you're curious eight of the eleven stories take place in the same universe, contain about most popular genres (romance, sci-fi, intrigue, crime, detective, history, biography, horror/fantasy, humor,...). They'll be different lengths._

_Two other stories of the eleven in total belong to the same universe as well, but that's a very longterm project that involves a lot of research and profound thinking. The eleventh story is a short story, it's still too much being developed to say anything more than that it'll be centered in Brussels and involve a terroristic attack (but involving Belgian politics rather than any religious mumbo jumbo)._

_When I ever get around to writing those stories, they'll be published on my site (see profile), the fiction side of which will probably be placed on line sometime next week. (Will only contain a collection of fan fiction I've written so far.) _


End file.
